I Know What You Did Last Summer

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER (1997)

I warn you and warn you now; there are only two reasons to watch this movie, and both of them are attached to the chest of Not just objectification; these breasts can act!

Not just objectification; these breasts can act!

Jennifer Love Hewitt. Not since the days of Raquel Welch in One Million Years B.C. have I seen a movie that continued to capture a viewer's interest merely by the star quality of an actress's breasts. I was actually kind of caught up in the movie by the end, so evocatively did Jennifer's boombas demonstrate terror, resolve and tension. I'm serious. I was worried for those breasts; I rooted for them to survive. What's unfair about this is that Jennifer Love Hewitt is a good actress (as, actually, was Raquel Welch) and probably perfectly capable of carrying a good movie in her own right. But this pretty lame movie manages to develop some tension at the end and this is attributable to those amazing breasts, that never really seem to show too much but somehow manage to keep showing more. It's as if this woman had two miniature Lillian Gishes strapped to the front of her. I don't want to see them bare; I just want to see what role they'll take on next.

Anyway, this film kept me from watching Scream 2 in the theaters; I sorta suspected that it was going to be a disappointment compared to the Scream movies, and I didn't want to see it after Scream Sr. and Jr. when it would really appear to suck. So I put off watching Scream 2 until I had watched this, but it seemed that every time I went to the video store I just couldn't work up the yen for it, etc., etc. (cut to montage of calendar pages flying off the wall, clock hands spinning, seasons changing, and so on). Maybe it was all those ads for I Still Know What You Did Last Summer (one of those truly awful sequel names) but the other day, I went, "ahhh, why not?" and grabbed the damn thing.

The nickel tour: on their final summer before leaving for college, four teens (Julie, Barry, Ray and Helen, played by, respectively, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Ryan Phillipe, Freddie Prinze Jr., and Sarah Michelle Gellar) on their last night of debauchery end up hitting and killing a stranger with their car. They decide to throw the body in the sea and never tell anyone. A year later, ominous messages are sent to them and they find themselves being stalked by someone in a fisherman's outfit who Knows What They Did, Yadda, Yadda.

The most interesting thing about this movie is that it doesn't work. There's a perfectly good set-up for a movie here shot down by a couple of factors. The first is that, as simple morality play, it drops the ball. By the time, the next summer rolls around, every one is pretty much a wreck. Bright student Julie is about to fail out, and looks like she hasn't washed her hair in months (Jennifer Love Hewitt has method actress hair too, by the way. That woman can do junky hair like nobody's business. Dude, I was so drunk, I had no idea what I did last summer! Ick.) Beauty queen Helen has tried and failed to take a bite out of the big apple and is back working in the family department store under the wrathful eye of her contemptuous older sister (Bridgette Wilson, who was so good I didn't recognize her from Mortal Kombat). Ray's stopped even trying to better himself and become a fisherman like the rest of his family (Freddie Prinze, Jr. is good looking and seems sympathetic, but either cannot act or was told by the director to wear the same expression for the entire movie), and Barry, although well on the way to being a star quarterback, is a paranoid drunk (Ryan Phillipe, to continue in my vein of post-sentence asides, plays Barry the unlikeable bastard, and it should be noted that Phillipe, like in all of his previous roles, grates on my nerves mightily. The guy is like nails on a chalkboard for me. I do have to admit that he plays an asshole in this movie and an asshole in Scream and actually plays two different assholes. They seem utterly different. In short, Phillipe can act; I just hope I never have to watch him again). Barely able to look one another in the eyes, these guys don't need the fisherman as spirit of vengeance. There will be no happy endings for these people.

Another shoot-itself-in-the-foot factor is that the gang of four don't bother to band together and solve things. They just run around yelling at themselves and other people. There's a lead here and there that clever Julie tries to track down and reluctantly drags Helen along for, but for the most part everyone automatically suspects each other (or David from the Roseanne show who saw them that night) which really puts the kibosh on any "us-vs.-the unknown" factor that really gives most horror its kick. And, although I emphasized, kinda, with the four, the fact that none of them are likeable, post-accident, is also a another spear in the movie's side.

The movie eventually gets down to an ending that, thanks to the miracle of Jennifer Love Hewitt's amazing twins, had suspense, action and was satisfying in a "Perils of Pauline" sort of way. I also have to admit that it's enjoyable, after the late 80's and 90's, to have a standard Hollywood movie that actually kills off lead characters. And I should mention the nice cameo work by Anne Heche who has small role here as the strange sister of the man the four think they killed. Heche is even a better actress than Love Hewitt's breasts, and she brought her role layers of depth and tension that sort of embarrassed me. It was kind of like getting a good glass of red wine with your Big Mac. Sure, it makes the meal better, but boy, does it show up what you're eating for the crap it is. No doubt it will be one day recognized as a pioneer in what will later be known as the Cinema of the Breast, I Know What You Did Last Summer is so unsatisfying in all other ways as to be more appropriately named I Have No Idea What I Rented From The Video Store Last Weekend.

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